


Discarded Boughs

by CrossYourTeez



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossYourTeez/pseuds/CrossYourTeez
Summary: A series of drabbles and one-shots mainly focusing on Fran's past and present with a little bit of Balthier sprinkled in.





	1. LOVE

**Author's Note:**

> First thing you need to know: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I don't know how my work will be received, but I'm hopeful for a positive outcome.
> 
> Each chapter will circle around Fran; her thoughts, feelings, past. These will all be headcanons of my own imagination.  
> Balthier may not always make an appearance, but he'll be mentioned.

* * *

 

Love for family. Love for a friend.

 

Love is an emotion that Fran is not unfamiliar with. She is reserved and often times gives off a chilly disposition toward strangers. However, once someone manages to win her approval, she will remain a loyal and steadfast companion, giving her all to protect that person. Instead of gifts of flattery, she shows her love in a different way; through selfless action.

 

Love for a partner…?

 

Fran’s relationship with Balthier have left many guessing to whether or not there is an intimacy between the two. When directly asked, she doesn’t divulge much, choosing to leave others to their own speculation. She will admit however that there could be none other that she would rather stand side-by-side with.

 

* * *

  _"I should want to be with them in a night to which dawn would never come, for even eternity must end."_

\- Fran (Final Fantasy XII: Revenant Wings)


	2. LEAVING

* * *

 

She left the Wood. Left her sisters behind. Her whole world. Somehow, she still can’t regret this decision. Though she misses that basic connection that some take for granted; a home, a family, a sense of belonging, she cannot regret trading her past for her freedom. Freedom to live and think as she pleased. To explore as much as she pleased.

To love whom she pleased.

Back in her travels with Vaan and company, Fran remembers her hesitance of making an appearance in her old village. Hesitant of meeting those judgmental eyes, should they even bother to glance her way. After all, she was Viera no longer and the Wood was not kind to outsiders. Having her eyes opened to the world outside of the boughs of the trees and now returning back to their embrace, Fran realized how small-minded her kin were.  
They never minded or even cared what was or what could be.

No, she could never live like that.  
She was born to leave. Born to be and live free.

* * *

 


	3. ISOLATION

* * *

 

Though she left her homeland and sisters behind to seek her own freedom, Fran feared the isolation. Growing up in the Wood, Fran was never alone. She would often wander away to the borders of their realm, toeing the fine line between the Wood and what existed beyond. Even in those small rebellious adventures, the Wood never left her. It would always sing songs when It was kind, or reaffirm warnings when It felt she had drifted too far. This complex duality compelled her to stay, stilling the quiet courage inside.

Years later, when she could no longer bear to remain still and close minded to the life outside, she left. Her sisters, especially the youngest, Mjrn, cried and begged for their sister to return to them, to the Wood. It was too late, Fran chose her freedom and the Wood disowned her in return.

Fran was no longer Viera.

She wandered the world, free but utterly alone. It was terrifying to feel so lost in a world so much bigger than she could have ever imagined. Thankfully, with unexpected events, she met Balthier. She decided to live her life as a Pirate of the Sky alongside him. To forget the past and begin anew. It was all thanks to him.

 

Still, that haunting feeling of the inevitable end still cut her dreams at night. The fear of losing her partner. Losing her friends. Fearing she would outlive them all. Time will always move, no matter how hard one tries to grasp it and hold it in place. What would have become of a fallen Viera if she hadn’t found a welcome escape with a fellow outcast?

 

What would happen if she lost him? Where then would she belong?

* * *

 


	4. DEATH

* * *

Pain.

She felt nothing but a sharp pain in her chest where her heart beat. She pressed a palm against her bosom and tried to calm her wracked nerves, trying to face the unbelievable reality that he was gone.

How had this happened? What had gone so wrong?

Balthier was gone. Never again would she laugh along with him. Or smile, or celebrate with him. She would never hear his voice again.

She tried to clutch desperately to her memories of him, forbidding them to dissipate. Already, she could feel the sinking loneliness.

Was she really this dependent on his company? Of course she was.

He had been the only one in her world for so long. Her sadness and longing fed into anger. Anger toward the one who closed the curtain on her Leading Man. She clenched her fists, causing her long nails to break her skin on her palms. Blood ran down down her wrists in long red lines, but she couldn't feel the sting of the self-inflicted wound. Her mind couldn't wrap around it. All she could see through the haze of anger and grief was the flash of Balthier's pale face, stilled in time by death. Hot tears spilled down her face as the muscles in her body tensed. Gritting her teeth, she faced the fiend head-on. Bow in hand, she drew an arrow. This wouldn't be a quick kill. She would make it slow and agonizing.  
  
This fiend would share her pain.

* * *

 

 _How can I say this without breaking_  
_How can I say this without taking over_  
_How can I put it down into words_  
_When it's almost too much for my soul alone_

_I loved and I loved and I lost you._

_And it hurts like Hell.  
\- _ Fleurie (Hurts Like Hell)

 


	5. PLAYING IN THE RAIN

* * *

 

After anchoring in Giza Plains, the party took rest inside a shelf of rock located in the southern banks of the area.

Basch volunteered to scavenge for food and Penelo made the necessary arrangements to make sure everyone would be comfortable by unrolling blankets and setting a fire for cooking and warmth. Ashe was brooding against the rocky wall, musing on matters which seemed to continue to haunt her, while Balthier polished his gun and checked the supplies, making sure that everything was in satisfactory order.

Vaan on the other hand walked away from the group, insisting on training during their little break. Fran was perched atop the top platform of the rocky shelf and observed the younger boy below as he fenced against an invisible foe. His form was lacking, but at least watching him provided a small amount of entertainment. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and folded her legs underneath her. Fran remained on the look-out for wild fiends roaming the area. Basch returned with burlap sack, carrying what smelled to be fruit. He looked up at her in passing and the two exchanged a silent greeting before he ducked underneath and rejoined the party.

The sound of rolling thunder vibrated the earth. Her nose picked up the scent of an approaching rainstorm. Frowning, she stood and easily scaled down the rocky slope. “Vaan, you should come in now. It will rain soon and it would be best that you didn’t catch a cold while traveling.”, she warned, extending her hand toward him.

The boy looked over his shoulder with a smile and danced further away from her much to Fran’s irritation. "What? A little rain doesn't hurt anyone!", he remarked with that air of careless swagger she had come accustomed to whenever he was within her company. She folded her arms across her chest, positively in no mood to entertain childish antics. “I am not your chaperone”, she reminded him testily.

Still, Vaan refused to heed her warning and threw his hands behind his head, wandering further out into the open clearing, baiting her with what he thought was simple humor. Fran looked over her shoulder and saw the light of a fire being stoked. She turned to Vaan and followed after him. She decided that she would take him by the arm and drag the uncouth Hume by the arm with force, if need be.

"Enough. We're going back before...", her voice drifted off and she visibly stiffened. A small drop fell from the heavens and landed on the tip of her rabbit ear. She felt it slowly running down the side, tickling the fine fur, until it nested in the confines of her thick hair.

Before she could even manage an accusing look at Vaan, a down pour suddenly came upon them, drenching them to the bone.

There stood Fran. Utterly dispirited, soaking wet from her ears to her feet. Her hair hung limp, sticking to her scalp. Small drops of water ran down the side of her face, like thin rivers. With her hair matted down, her gaze narrowed down at Vaan, her deathly silence speaking volumes. Vaan snorted, covering his mouth to stifle his amusement. Either unaffected or unaware, he remained in good spirit. This only agitated Fran further, testing the boundaries of her patience.

She took him by the arm, tugging him behind her back to the dry safety of the rocky shelf. She ignored her companions' questionable gazes as the two entered, dripping rain water onto the stone floor. Ever assisting, Penelo came immediately to Vaan, chastising his carelessness and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. She decided to leave Fran to herself since the Viera didn’t appear to want any help at all from anyone. She looked miserable and down right humiliated, but still managed to hold her head high.

Balthier leaned close beside her as she took a seat next to him, gathering her hair between her hands to wring out the water. She didn't glance at her partner, but appreciated the warmth radiating off of him. Neither said a word to each other, but she could see Balthier smirking in her direction out of her peripheral. She felt his hip brush against her own as he proceeded to make himself comfortable by stretching out his legs. The satchel of picked fruit was passed to him and he pulled out two for Fran and himself before tossing it back into Basch's open hand.

Finally, he broke the silence between them as the others tended to the fire, testing Fran's mood as he handed her the small ration. “So, decided to go out for a dance in the rain, did we?”, he questioned with a teasing glint in his eye.

He ignored Fran's look mild annoyance, but jolted when she leaned in against him. He felt her shiver from the chill and he awkwardly placed an arm around her. Her expression smoothed as the two shared in the warmth of the fire's glow. Idly, Balthier's fingers traced small lines across Fran's shoulder and murmured softly enough as to be unheard by the others.

"Well, alright then. I guess this is your way of making me useful?" He looked down at Fran, but couldn't catch her eye. She seemed intent on keeping watch on the fire, the glow coloring her skin to a golden bronze. In that rare moment, a quiet smile crossed her lips, as if she held a secret refusing to be told.

* * *

_When the night has come_  
_And the land is dark_  
_And the moon is the only light we see_  
_No, I won't be afraid_  
_Oh, I won't be afraid_  
_Just as long as you stand, stand by me_  
  
_So, darling, darling, stand by me._

_-_ Florence + The Machine (Stand By Me)


	6. METEOR SHOWER

* * *

 

There was something important that Balthier wanted to show her. Something he refused to explain, which bothered her greatly.

It had already been a month since she joined up with the Sky Pirate who wooed her with promises of adventure and freedom. She agreed, knowing that she had no other option but to spend the rest of her long years wandering among the Humes. She knew he was just as fascinated with her as she was of him. In this way, it suited both parties well.

Balthier was always patient with her, showing her the world and explaining both it’s complexities and simplicity. In return, she offered tales of her past and her own customs - a brief look into a world that he, a Hume, would never see. Still, it felt like it wasn’t enough. It was too little in exchange for what he had given her.

She set out to learn as much as she could about airships and general knowledge in weaponry; whatever it took to make his life a little easier and without worry.

He had asked her once about the day she was born into the world. Her “Birthday” he had called it. Fran wasn’t cooperative, declining to tell him, as it would let on exactly how long she had been on this earth.

Still, to satisfy him, she replied, “Not too long ago, but not recently either.”

Balthier seemed to begrudgingly accept that answer, but claimed a celebration should still be made. If Fran wasn't willing to place a date, then he would mark one for her.

She always found Balthier's flare for dramatics to be charming, so it was hard to deny him. Fran agreed with little objection and in time soon disregarded the matter entirely.

Coming back to the present, Fran remained in the spot that Balthier left her in. She sat comfortably on the wing of their airship which was anchored safely somewhere in the outskirts of the wild. She wasn’t sure why he was so adamant about this, but she supposed it must be an important event for him. So it was best she didn’t miss it.

The sky was dark and sprinkled with stars. Fran picked up the light steps of her partner coming up from behind. She turned to glance over her shoulder at him and could see he was visibly relieved she kept her promise to be at their pre-arranged spot until he returned. She questioned him again why this outing was necessary, but he dodged her question and stretched out languidly, folding his hands beneath his head.

He gazed intently up at the sky and so Fran, giving up on ever getting her partner to give up his reasoning, settled back as well and shared his gaze of the night sky.

A quick flash across the sky caught her attention. And another.

And another. Silver lines shot across the dark sky, shooting in between the stars.

She sat up and gave Balthier a sideways glance, expecting a reaction from him but he merely gazed back with a calm smile and gentle gaze that sent a warmth flooding into her chest.

“It’s a meteor shower, Fran.”, he replied as he turned back to the sky. “I suppose you’ve never seen something like this with the trees blocking the sky, hm? It took some planning to get the timing just right.” Fran didn’t reply and Balthier didn’t expect her to.

She turned back to the spectacular show. It looked as if the heavens were celebrating some great feat. Blinking, she kept her gaze above them and broke the still silence in a hushed tone. “…Was this the surprise?”

She heard Balthier chuckle under his breath beside her as his hand found hers and he answered, “Happy Birthday, Fran.”

* * *

 


	7. SENSITIVITY

* * *

 

He was staring at her again. She could see it out of her peripheral. It was a habit she had grown accustomed to whenever they shared in a drink together.  
The red wine the establishment served was strong and beautiful, the heady kind that exhilarated the senses, but dulled the mind. Fran slowly dragged her gaze to meet Balthier's.  
He smiled crookedly at her, his eyes were somewhat glazed over. It could have been the lighting in the room, but she was certain that there was also a warmth to his cheeks that made them pink.

Bringing the ruby indulgence to her lips, she sipped delicately. She let the taste melt across her tongue before it ran down her throat. Over the rim of the fine glass, she could see her partner watching her. There was plenty enough activity swirling around their table to easily catch his attention, but Balthier seemed to find some careful enjoyment in watching her drink. The way his fingers danced up and down the stem of his wine glass could have been interpreted as suggestive. Fran set her drink down and uncrossed her legs. She leaned closer with her elbows resting on the table and her interlocked fingers held her chin aloft.

The heat in his gaze and the way his his hair was slightly disheveled, a result from his fingers running restlessly through it far too much, would have sent many right into his open hands. Fran would surely be lying to herself if she didn't admit to feeling drawn towards him. And he knew it.  
Still, neither one made a move to act. Both would simply regard the other from across the small purposeful distance between them. It was a chance to really test their boundaries. To see who would trip first. It was a daring and probably forbidden game to play. What would become of their partnership should something like raw need become part of their simple equation?

The tip of Fran's tongue darted out to wipe away a single droplet of wine that stained her lips. It was a subtle act, but Balthier caught it. She knew nothing escaped the eagle eye of her leading man.  
His smile only grew wider and impossibly more impish. "My dear...", his voice was as rich to her senses as the wine. And much like the wine, Balthier appeared innocent, likely problematic, should she indulge a bit too much.  
She hummed softly, encouraging him to continue. He leaned forward, bringing himself close enough for her to pick up the whisper of his request. "May I touch your ears?"

A sudden bubble of laughter escaped her. Of all the ridiculous things...  
Balthier didn't look at all embarrassed or abashed by her reaction. In fact, he looked rather pluck. He ran his tongue across his canine teeth as a grin overcame him.  
"I've always been curious about them. Are they..."

"Sensitive?", Fran supplied as her lips formed a smile, her eyes sending a quiet threat that he may very well lose this round.

"Ticklish.", he clarified, undaunted by her challenge.

For a moment, neither said a word. There was just the usual sounds of activity; clinking glasses, boisterous voices, the soft harp strings of a travelling bard.  
Fran swirled her drink, watching as the liquid formed a tiny whirlpool before dying down into small ripples.  
Balthier must have felt particularly eager this evening after several glasses of alcohol. The game had started and the stakes were high. Now, he waited her move.

Fran stood, suddenly realizing that her partner looked far too smug sitting in his drunken stupor. He sent her an inquiring look and she answered with a pitched brow and knowing smile. Her head indicated a solitary space away from their table. Her fingers trailed against the wooden grain of the surface as she left for a new preferred spot. Balthier watched her go. Despite his best ability, he was unable to draw himself away from her lure. Her bronze skin seemed much too tempting underneath the soft dimness of candlelight. And curse it all, he wasn't about to allow her a win so easily. He picked up the folded napkin and dabbed the corner of his lip before rising and following after her. Whatever game Fran wanted to play, he'd meet her head on.

Fixing his sleeve cuffs, he sought after Fran. He found her leaning against the far wall, tucked away in a corner. The area was far enough away to avoid traffic and all the sounds of the activity seemed to be muffled by distance. The space was a bit shadier, but there was more than enough light for him to make out her sinewy form and her eyes which seem to gleam like the brightest rubies.

Fran reached out to tug on his shirt collar, beckoning him a little closer to her. Balthier allowed this and made pleased sound in the back of his throat. Somehow, his fingertips found her hips and for a moment they stood and swayed together. They both awaited the other's next move and tried to pre-plan a counter measure in retaliation.

Fran reached up to run the tips of her fingers against his jaw until they paused at the nape of his neck. He stared expectantly into her eyes, swallowing down the pit of the stomach nerves. Fran never was one for words. She always spoke through her body and eyes. He tried to read her now but stumbled in his efforts when she pressed herself flush against him. He felt her lips close to his ear. His breath hitched, but to his credit, he didn't flinch.  
He supposed that had to count as some sort of win.

Fran could feel his pulse flutter underneath his skin as her mouth searched a spot just behind his ear. She could smell his cologne. She would never tell him, but she loved his fine taste in superficial things. Much like the man himself, his cologne complimented a feeling of cleanliness and sophistication.

Weak at the knees, Balthier was decidedly beside himself with disappointment. He had lost. Fran won without much contest. By the way her mouth worked against his neck, he certainly wasn't going to complain. His hands remained still, allowing her to indulge in victory undisturbed.  
Her lips were at one spot, but it felt as if they were everywhere all at once. How on earth did she do that to him?

Fran paused in her ministrations long enough to tear a frustrated sigh out of Balthier. She pulled away from him and cupped his heated face in-between her hands. Her eyes were alight with humor. Her thickly accented voice was a breath upon his dry lips.  
"Ticklish...or sensitive?"

Balthier's shoulders sunk at her retrieval of her affections and his head fell forward in defeat. He chuckled and scratched a spot on his neck that still tingled.  
"I suppose that's a game-set-match. Well done, Fran."

Fran tapped her fingers against his hairline, a gentle smile of support. She wouldn't rub it in.

"The question...?", she reminded him lightly. Teasingly.

Balthier brought his gaze to meet hers. His expression was sheepish, but it was still somehow full of that swagger that he knew she had come to appreciate.  
"Both."  
Fran blinked and Balthier could have sworn she had rolled her eyes, which was a very un-Fran-like thing to do.  
He chuckled, bringing his hand up to touch her chin. "I refuse to give you the satisfaction of discovering the difference."

Fran seemed to take that into consideration. Her fingernails gently moved into his hair, lightly scraping at his scalp. Her voice dipped into a whisper that would have been lost had she not of had his entire attention.  
"Then, I suppose a more methodical approach is needed."

Balthier swallowed.  
_Oh, sweet Shiva._

 

* * *

_Come on, come on._  
_Kiss away the ones who say  
_ _The lust you feel is wrong.  
_ _Now how bad could it be?_

_If you amuse yourself with me?_

_How bad could it be?_  
_Sexuality._

_-_ K.D. Lang (Sexuality)


End file.
